


An Ordinary Night

by BashfulTenrec



Category: The New Legends of Monkey (TV)
Genre: And that's pretty neat, But like she's also a badass in her own way, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nightmares, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 01, Tripitaka is a Disney Princess, Tripkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 10:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BashfulTenrec/pseuds/BashfulTenrec
Summary: Tripitaka watches over her friends during the night and does more for them than they'll ever know.





	An Ordinary Night

Silence was her greeting as she softly set her armful of firewood on the grass, taking great care to not disturb her three slumbering companions. It wasn’t too often that Tripitaka was on the night watch, but even after today’s long and (thankfully) uneventful trek, she wasn’t tired and was more than happy to let her friends catch up on sleep and have time to herself in the quiet of the night.

Tripitaka frowned, sweeping her gaze over the modest campsite, listening to the muffled snaps and pops of the fire. Now that she thought about it, the night was too quiet. There was something important missing. Sandy’s teaching echoed in her mind: “ _If you’re uneasy, Tripitaka, there’s always a good reason.”_ In every new place they traveled, Tripitaka had quickly learned to always first take stock of what sounds were normal in their surroundings. If something changed, it could give a heads up for trouble. Granted, if Monkey was yelling or ranting about something, that often made it difficult to get a sense of normalcy, but it was a habit of hers to always try.

Then she realized what was bothering her.

Pigsy wasn’t snoring. As silly as that was, Tripitaka had gotten used to his gentle rumble and now had difficulty falling asleep without either hearing it or feeling the purr through the ground. She glanced over to him. He was still asleep, but he was frowning, lines of unease and worry aging him. She softly called to him, but he didn’t even twitch. Tripitaka stood up to go take a closer look and noticed Monkey, lying several feet away, also didn’t seem to be very restful. He had thrown his arm out, hand twitching, searching for something as his eyes darted behind his eyelids.

Then she heard a quiet whimper break the now muggy stillness of the camp and the drowsy stupor that had coated her apprehension.

Sandy.

Locked in one of her periodic nightmares, she was sweating, muttering to herself through clenched teeth, her entire body tense and shivering. Sandy was normally was a light sleeper (when she did sleep that is) so Tripitaka could easily wake her with a whisper or a nudge. But neither had a noticeable effect on the god this time. Tripitaka hesitantly knelt by Sandy’s side and very gently shook her shoulder.

“Sandy, it’s okay, it’s just a dream,” Tripitaka soothed, a little louder. Sandy let out a strangled growl. “You’re safe. Sa-”

Quick as a flash Sandy’s arm lashed out and slammed into Tripitaka’s head. Her backhand knocked Tripitaka to the ground several feet away, coming to a stop close to Monkey’s prone form. Tripitaka gingerly sat up, letting out a small cry when her arm and skull screamed in protest at the movement.

Monkey sharply inhaled, as if in response to the noise, head shaking slightly as he fought to wake up. Tripitaka could have sworn she saw something glitter in the corner of his eye as he glared in his sleep, lip twitching into a curl, before going still.

Meanwhile Sandy had sprang up, tense body held into a crouch, face bared into a snarl, wide, tearful eyes staring wildly around at nothing, before collapsing into a shuddering heap on the ground. Tripitaka rubbed her head with her good arm as she wearily pushed herself up, head foggy.

Nightmares weren’t exactly uncommon for all of them. The four of them shared enough trauma and tragedy and fear that being woken up in the middle of the night to a calming nod or a gentle nudge was normalized to Tripitaka. But all three gods, trapped in a terrible dream in one night, was decidedly not normal. A sensation of drowsiness prickled the back of her mind, and she shook her head in irritation. If she had been concussed that would really ruin her day. Sandy would feel so guilty if she somehow found out what had happened during the night. She stood up slowly, scanning the edge of the trees, and something tugged on her neck. She glanced down to see Monkey’s fist balled around her scarf as he tugged it towards himself. Upon shrugging off the fabric and tucking it under his head, she searched his face and was disappointed that the gesture didn’t appear to offer any comfort to the sleeping god, who mumbled and curled his arms into himself, body shaking.

Tripitaka searched the tree line again, all of her senses straining. Two tiny spots of light in the bush almost directly in front of her drew her attention, and she knelt to pick up a few rocks, watching the bush out of the corner of her eye. She blinked away another prickle of drowsiness. When she stood up to look at it directly, a wave of tiredness insistently called her to sleep, confirming her suspicions.

The two pinpricks of light winked out. A second later a ripple in the air distorted the view of a bush. Tripitaka hurled the rock in her hand as hard as she could towards the distorted air, and a thud instantly followed by a sharp yelp pierced the air. As she cocked her arm back to throw another rock, a shrill voice rang out.

“No! Don’t want! No rock! Stop! Stop!”

Tripitaka froze mid throw as a small, round creature materialized in the bush, rubbing a stubby paw over its face where the rock had struck true. As Sandy often said, she had good aim.

“Your camouflage needs work.” The blunt words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Seven hells, she was turning into Monkey. “Come here into the light or there will be more rocks,” Tripitaka ordered, warily lowering her arm. The creature whined but complied, carefully picking its way down the rocky slope until it just barely touched the ring of firelight surrounding the camp. It plopped down and gave her a forlorn look with large, watery eyes.

It was a creature that was annoyingly familiar to Tripitaka, looking like a collection of animals mashed together into a somewhat cohesive whole. The knapsack-sized body was stubby, round, and pig-like, covered in short black and white fur that particularly stuck out from its rolls of fat, but sported the wide and soft paws of a tiger with an odd, twitching trunk adorning its face. If she had encountered this beast under different circumstances, she might have found it cute.

“What… are you?” she asked, her anger at the creature giving way to her ever-prevalent curiosity.  

The creature cocked its head in confusion, taking its time to think. “I… am me?” it replied slowly. Its high-pitched, reedy speech sounded rough and unpracticed, almost infantile. “You are you, yes? So I am me.”

Tripitaka sighed. A demon would never answer like this. “Forget it.” She gestured to the prone gods. “Did you do this?”

It cowered, pinning its tiny button ears to its head. “Hungry. I’m sorry. But yes. I make them sleep and dream, yes. Hungry. So far from home. So far from my crèche. My crèche is gone, and I ran from the demons who eat my crèche. I run far. So far. So hungry. But you came along and sleep and I eat, yes. The demons eat my crèche, and I eat bad dreams.” The creature curled in on itself sadly, tucking its stubby trunk into its mouth. Tripitaka likened it to a child sucking their thumb for comfort.

The pieces clicked. The strange, hodgepodge appearance. Feeding on nightmares.

“You’re a… baku, aren’t you?” she realized. She’d read about them before. She didn’t think they ventured this far west. But if the creature was to be believed, the demons overrunning the world must have had an effect on fleeing wildlife, even the magically inclined ones.

The creature considered the word, kneading the ground with its oversized paws. “Baku,” it pronounced slowly. “Baaaaaku. Bakuuuuuuu. Ba-ku. Ba. Ku. Baaaaaakuuuuuu.” It tried the word in various pitches and volumes, playing with the word. If Tripitaka had let it, the baku probably would be there all night saying its name. She was about to interrupt when its attention wandered back to her face. “I am me.”

“Yes you are,” Tripitaka replied, doing her best to stay patient. “Can you wake my friends up, please?” It made a frustrated bleat and shook its head, trunk disappearing back into its mouth. Tripitaka tamped down her own frustration and rising dread. “And why is that? I need them to stop having bad dreams.”

“I ran before I could learn. We learn from each other to make dreams. I ran before I could be eaten.”

“Your parents don’t teach you?” Maybe it was an inborn knowledge that they refined from practicing on their crèche-mates. Most curious. The baku tilted its head, silent. “What, you never had a mother or father? A family?” Tripitaka pressed.

The baku’s trunk curled and uncurled as it ground its teeth, seemingly chewing on its thoughts. “There… is the crèche. And I am me. Yes.”

That was probably as good of an answer as she was going to get. Just another odd thing in this odd world of hers. The baku blinked and indicated with its tiny trunk the three gods. “Their minds have many fears, yes. Too much to eat. Yes, too much for even me or my crèche. Not a simple bad dream a human would make.”

“That’s probably because they’re gods,” Tripitaka mused. “Their minds work differently than humans.”

The concept of a god compared to a human seemed lost on the baku. “Too much bad dreams to eat, yes. They’re dreaming together. Like a crèche, yes. I did not do that. They did that themselves. Their crèche share the dream and create it together. And now they believe it.”

“And now you can’t stop it, even if you wanted to.” Tripitaka swallowed uncomfortably, her eyes lingering on the still forms of her friends.

The baku’s sparsely haired end of its tail twitched in excitement. “Why stop? I can stay and eat the dream forever, yes. You could join the crèche, yes. Then there’s even more to eat.”

“I’m going to stop it because I want my friends back,” Tripitaka shot back hotly, feeling her temper flare up from her fear. “So tell me how to wake them!”

“No! Don’t know!” it squeaked, ducking down, curling its stumpy tail into its flank and squeezing its eyes shut. “No rock! Don’t eat!”

Tripitaka felt tears bristling at the corners of her eyes and she sat down heavily, grinding a fist into her forehead, willing any ideas to come to her. After several heartbeats, the baku hesitantly waddled over to sit next to her, ever so slowly scooting forward until it could gingerly touch its trunk to her knee. Tripitaka was startled at the comforting gesture. She blinked until the watery black and white blob focused into the creature that was staring so intently up at her.

As a child, she remembered getting upset at seeing a hawk swoop down and kill a singing sparrow she had been listening to. The scholar had dried her tears and told her, “There is no sense in getting angry at a hawk being a hawk. The hawk wishes to live, too.”

There was no sense in getting angry at a baku being a baku.

The creature, equally orphaned, was just trying to survive in the same ragged world she was trying to traverse. She felt a pang of empathy.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” She offered a gentle pet on its cheek, and the baku slowly blinked in confusion but nevertheless used its trunk to stop her from withdrawing her hand. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I am sorry for your crèche, yes,” the baku replied. It fully settled its head onto her lap. “I was hungry.”

“And you’re surprisingly heavy,” Tripitaka grunted, shuffling her legs to attempt to be more comfortable. Its solid head alone felt like it weighed as much as Tripitaka’s entire body.

“Lots of bad dreams, yes,” the baku sighed in contentment, the giant paws kneading the ground beneath her leg. “I ate them. Very heavy now, yes.”

Tripitaka stared at her friends. “Do you have to eat nightmares?”

“Bad dreams, yes,” it replied. “Bad dreams are best. But sometimes good dreams too if there is nothing bad to eat. Then there is nothing the next sunrise.”

Tripitaka thought of the mornings where she had awoken, certain she had had a dream the night before but had no memory of it, and wondered if a hungry baku had stopped by to feast. She rubbed the baku’s tiny ears, its eyes now half shut, and thought about how to wake her friends. The last time this sort of thing happened, Sandy and Pigsy had figured out how to escape the trap on their own, and Monkey had needed the crown sutra to help her break into his self-imposed prison. But this was different. From what she could recall of her readings about baku, they instinctively sensed what could cause a nightmare and the dreamer built their own nightmare around their small suggestion, and then the baku fed on the fear and negative emotions produced by the experience until the dream itself was devoured into nothing. The shaman had created an entire believable reality where the enslaved gods were entrapped. This was a dream that her three friends had trapped themselves in.

Then something the baku had said earlier came to mind.

“You said I could join the crèche,” she said slowly, searching the creature’s now wide eyes. It wordlessly nodded, its tail thumping as realization dawned on it. It sprang to its oversized feet, and Tripitaka was relieved the weight was lifted from her.

“Yes! You join the dream! If they see you in the dream they all share, they see it is a dream and will wake,” it squealed in confirmation. “Provided they are not fully stupid, yes.”

There were times when that sentiment could be up for debate, but Tripitaka pressed on, “How?”

“I try to make you sleep before. You didn’t sleep. Now you sleep, yes. Then I make you dream.”

Tripitaka was ready to throw herself to the ground and sleep right then and there, but then realized this could easily be a trap. “And how do I know you won’t trap me in there with them?”

It looked steadily at her. “I made mistake before. I will help fix it. I will not trap you.” Its eyes then flicked between the gods, their weapons, and then regarded Tripitaka. “But they will sleep until sunrise, yes? But you will wake when they are free. Then I leave. And you will stay. Don’t chase to eat.”

Sounded reasonable. “It’s a deal. Yes,” Tripitaka amended.

The baku nodded. “You sleep now. I will help you to their bad dream.”

The baku sat up straight and watched as Tripitaka lay down on the grass close to Monkey, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. The familiar pressure of the baku’s magic tickled her mind, making her eyelids feel heavy, and this time she didn’t try to fight the drowsiness. But one more question bubbled up.

“You said if they see me, they’d know they’re in a dream. What d’you mean by that?” she asked, voice slurring.

The baku’s voice sounded far away as darkness washed over her.

“It is because they dream of you.”

\---

It took Tripitaka a moment before she realized her eyes were open. She blinked away the daylight as she sat up to take stock of her surroundings. She had been lying in the same spot as she was when she had gone to sleep; the vague leftover of Monkey’s outline next to her. The air surrounding her was smoky from the remains of the campfire but felt stifling, as well as being filled with muffled voices from not too far away. If she hadn’t known prior, she would’ve been fooled she wasn’t in a dream.

Not too far from the campsite, the ground lowered into a basin of sorts, pale boulders of all sizes protruding from the earth. Tripitaka remembered walking past it yesterday, and upon expressing interest in camping there, had been immediately overruled by the others to sleep near the trees.

_“The ground is so rocky over there. I don’t care how cool it looks or how sheltered it seems,” Pigsy said flatly. “I’d take moving away from a tree root over digging pebbles out of my back the entire night any day of the week.”_

_“But there’s grass over there,” Tripitaka protested._

_“Grass hides many secrets. In the boulder field it will hide rocks,” Sandy said as she examined her blade. “Many rocks and annoying pebbles. I’m with Pigsy.”_

Speaking of Pigsy, Tripitaka spotted the god sitting near the very edge of the boulder field, away from the voices, head in his hand, staring dull-eyed at the ground. Tripitaka couldn’t determine how long he had been there, stuck in that pose. It could’ve been minutes or days, for all she knew. But what she did know is that he looked exhausted, utterly defeated. She had only caught glimpses of this appearance when something innocently came up in a conversation and he had to take a moment to grieve for a memory long lost to time before it was gone in a flash. He would only ever acknowledge the abrupt change in demeanor, but would never speak to Tripitaka about it directly, only expressing an offhand thanks in private that she’d noticed. It was only when she’d stopped a foot away from him and politely cleared her throat when he looked up.

His eyes, dull and red, slowly widened as the corners of his mouth drew into a tired smile and he nodded.

“Knew it,” he muttered, standing up to pull Tripitaka into an abrupt bear hug. “Knew it couldn’t be real.” Tripitaka awkwardly hugged him back, her arms not fully reaching around him. Finally he held her at arms’ length and looked her squarely in the face, his grin ripping years of weariness off of his features, his eyes twinkling again. “Let me guess. Baku?”

Tripitaka smiled in earnest and nodded. “How did you know it was a dream?”

Pigsy grinned wider and ruffled her short hair. “You may not recall, but I’ve been under a nightmare spell before. Not a fan. Besides,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “As far as nightmares go, this one was a bit over the top to be completely believable.”

Tripitaka was about to ask what he meant by that when the voices, which had been steadily growing louder, cut off in an abrupt shout and screech and Monkey tumbled into view halfway across the boulder field from behind a cairn formation. He shouted in frustration what sounded like “Well screw you too!” before he picked up a rock and hurled it as far as he could in a random direction, throwing himself down and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

Pigsy gestured to Tripitaka to usher her towards Monkey. “So if you were on watch last night, how are you in here with us? Did you get hypnotized? No shame in that. Baku magic is hard to resist, even for a fully awake god.”

“Sort of,” Tripitaka said with a shrug. “It feels bad for accidentally trapping you guys. The baku sent me to wake you guys up from the inside of the dream and in exchange we don’t eat it after we wake up.” Pigsy fully stopped and squinted down at her, full of unspoken questions.

“You actually spoke to a baku?” he asked. “They’re more timid than even you. How…?”

“I think it was pretty young,” Tripitaka replied hastily. “I don’t think it had ever encountered gods before and it couldn’t control the dream you guys made. It was an accident.” After a moment’s thought, she smiled. “The baku actually isn’t so bad, once you get to know it.”

Pigsy snorted and shook his head with a knowing smile as they started walking again towards the other god. “Only you be able to not only befriend a baku of all things, Tripitaka, but make it want to help. Only you. Hang on a second.”

He gently stopped Tripitaka as they watched Monkey climb to his feet and stomp towards the cairn for possibly the umpteenth time, if the worn path in the grass was any indication. He stopped at Sandy’s snapped response to his presence before stubbornly trekking forward, hands out in a half-hearted placating gesture. He continued his approach, even as Sandy shrieked a warning, before a blue blur tackled him with a roar, chasing him back to where he’d started before she retreated back to the cairn.

“They’re not handling this well.” Pigsy’s arm remained in place, holding Tripitaka back. “Only reason I’m not there is that Monkey needed a distraction.” From how Pigsy had looked when Tripitaka first entered the dream, she guessed the real reason was he didn’t feel up to interacting with anyone.

“Do they know they’re in a dream?” Tripitaka asked quietly. “I mean, you guessed…”

“They don’t know.” Pigsy’s look of compassion for Sandy and Monkey wavered as he glanced at her, hesitant. “When I say I guessed, it was more like I… hoped beyond all hope, that all this was a terrible nightmare. Even now I still have trouble believing what I’m seeing.” He glanced away. “Should’ve known all along that you wouldn’t… Well. Not like this.” It sounded like he was trying to censor his thoughts for her sake. He drew in a breath. “The sooner we get out of here the better.” They made their way closer to the others.

Monkey still didn’t realize that he had an audience as he stubbornly walked back up to the invisible border of whatever territory Sandy was so viciously guarding. From this angle Tripitaka couldn’t see his face, but she could see the beginnings of Sandy’s wild hair from around the corner of the cairn. Tripitaka moved to go to him, but Pigsy held her back again, muttering to wait until things settled down.

“Sandy.” Monkey’s voice also sounded tired. “Just come out here.”

A barely audible voice hissed in response and Monkey sighed to himself. “Well at least we’ve progressed to actual words.” To Sandy, he said louder, “Sandy, just… let her go. She’s not coming back.” Sandy leaned her head out from behind the rock to warily listen over her shoulder, her attention still on whatever was in the cairn. “We need to go get the scrolls and… save the world. Remember?”

“Why do you care?” she rasped. If Monkey was surprised he had gotten a coherent sentence out of her, he didn’t show it. “Your world died with her.”

Tripitaka felt nauseous as she realized the content of the gods’ shared nightmare. Pigsy gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, although whether the gesture was for her benefit or his, she couldn’t tell.

Monkey visibly recoiled. “I’m of the opinion to let the whole world go straight to hell, but Tr- that little monk- seemed strangely attached to it,” he snapped back. “So we might as well try to save it even if she’s gone. It’s what she would’ve wanted. Even if it’s stupid.”

Sandy let out a frenzied howl and a jet of water materialized to punch Monkey back several body-lengths away. He rolled to his feet with a splutter, feeling around for his staff that wasn’t there. When he came up empty, he shook his dripping hair, looking lost.

“I…” Tripitaka’s heart wrenched at the sound of his broken voice. “We miss her too.”

“We just need to wait! She always comes back!” Sandy spat, fully vanishing into her makeshift lair where the sound echoed. “We can’t leave her. She’ll find her way back. She always does.” Monkey’s head hung low as he once again flopped down on the ground, tearing up clumps of grass with one hand as the other supported his bowed head.

Pigsy waited until both gods were quiet before indicating Tripitaka to stay put in case Monkey decided to get violent.

“Hey,” Pigsy said calmly as he made his way to Monkey’s curled up form. When Monkey didn’t respond, he continued, “Got a minute?”

Monkey’s head snapped up to glare at Pigsy. “What, Pigsy? What could possibly be so important right now?” Monkey said with a snarl.

“It’s just you need to see-”

Monkey’s voice climbed in both volume and pitch. “See what?! I’m a little busy with the one job you couldn’t handle.”

Pigsy ignored the jab. “Monkey. All of this? It isn’t real.”

“Right,” Monkey scoffed. “And how do you know that?”

Pigsy took a breath to say something, but paused, glancing around, suddenly unsure. Tripitaka realized that the out of control nightmare may have altered Pigsy’s perception of reality now that he had walked away from her. The power of the nightmare trapping the gods was undeniable as it made him question what he had seen. “It’s just that… It can’t be real,” he said feebly. He had completely forgotten his evidence for his quiet faith in Tripitaka’s life.

Monkey rolled his eyes.  “You’re in denial. Fine. I’ll just have to be the responsible god. Might as well; the world has gone to hell anyway.”

Under normal circumstances Tripitaka would’ve doubled over laughing at the mere concept of Monkey being responsible, but bearing witness to the gods’ shared tragedy, false as it may be, her heart wrenched and she couldn’t stand by anymore to simply watch.

She timidly closed the gap between them. Pigsy was starting to wander away, but looked up and saw her, face breaking into relief as he remembered. He nudged Monkey, who jerked his arm away as he rose to his feet again.

“Pigsy just go away-”

“Monkey.”

The god’s entire body stilled at Tripitaka’s soft interruption. He slowly turned, nervous, daring to hope that what he heard was real and his eyes found hers. His breath caught.

Tripitaka carefully laid a hand over his hammering heart as he continued to stare, mouth slack, drinking in her appearance. “Whatever you saw, it’s not real. You’re in a nightma-”

Her sentence cut off in a yelp as Monkey grabbed her up into an impossibly tight hug, burrowing his head into her shoulder and hanging on to her for dear life. She let him stay like that for a while before she tapped him to signal to let go, which he reluctantly did. Tripitaka noticed there were a couple of wet spots on her scarf but didn’t call attention to it.

Pigsy cleared his throat. “Same.”

Monkey ignored him, his expression fluctuating wildly between confusion and relief as he continued to study Tripitaka.

“I thought you were dead.” Monkey’s fingers curled and uncurled as he fought to keep his arms by his side, voice about to crack.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Tripitaka replied, trying to keep her entire demeanor calm and soothing. “You’re in a nightmare.”

Monkey scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he paced around, eyes darting between the grass and Tripitaka. “Well of course we are. I could tell. ‘Course this isn’t real. Just didn’t want to snap everyone’s sense of reality too harshly while I figured out how to get us out.”

“Right. And how did you know this was a baku’s doing?” Pigsy asked dryly.

Monkey sneered. “Everything tastes like charcoal. It’s their trademark giveaway. Plus the details were all wrong. This is clearly a rookie… boku who set this all up. Obviously.”

Tripitaka thought back to Sandy frantically dousing the charred rabbits (and the entire campfire) last night and didn’t say anything.

“A baby baku, actually,” Pigsy said, eyes twinkling. “Little Tripitaka here befriended it.”

“Of course she did,” Monkey chuckled, sounding way too breathy.

Now that she had two out of the three sorted out, Tripitaka directed her attention to the cairn where Sandy was still lurking and made her way towards it, Pigsy and Monkey still absorbed in their conversation. She didn’t bother trying to tiptoe; there was no point. From all the mud on the sodden ground from repelling Monkey, Sandy would already know she was there. Tripitaka hesitated at the invisible line that Monkey was not allowed to cross, and then after a moment to focus she stepped over.

A growl echoed from within the cairn.

Undeterred, Tripitaka continued, and the warning grew louder with each step. “Sandy?” She kept her voice soft.

The growl instantly cut off.

Tripitaka took that as a cue to edge her way around the corner until she could fully peer into the small cavern.

Sandy erupted from her crouched position on the floor, snarling and snapping her teeth. Tripitaka leaped back, Sandy’s clawed swing just barely catching the fabric of her scarf. Sandy hesitated when she saw Tripitaka before backing away uncertainly, glaring and crouching near something on the floor in the middle of the cairn. Tripitaka heard a shout behind her.

Tripitaka followed Sandy’s gaze and froze, her mind not comprehending what her eyes were seeing.

A small monk, lying unmoving on the stone, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Their entire torso was… Tripitaka swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes stung with grief. She could only describe it as a mess, like something had torn it open and completely crushed it with an oversized weight.

Monkey’s arms spun her around and dragged her out of the cairn, one hand forcing her head into his arm and away from the corpse. Her corpse, Tripitaka belatedly realized, her entire body growing numb. The monk was an image of herself that she didn’t even recognize. Ruined and dead. The taste of bile crept into her mouth and she shivered as if she was freezing.

“Don’t look, little monk. Don’t look,” he murmured over and over to her, stroking her hair. “It’s not real. Don’t look.” It sounded like he was saying it to himself. Tripitaka allowed herself to be gently rocked by Monkey, mulling over how convincing the nightmare actually was and how traumatizing it would have been to them, considering how affected she herself was now. No wonder Sandy was having trouble letting this go.

After taking a calming breath, she pulled back and he let her step away, but still held onto her arms, searching her face.

“You okay?”

Tripitaka nodded, trying to piece together what she wanted to say. “It’s just that…” Her own voice sounded far away. Monkey cocked his head. “She was scared.”

“Sandy doesn’t know everything is not real. Of course she’s scared,” Pigsy murmured. Tripitaka just now noticed he had been standing nearby and shook her head.

“Not Sandy. Well, yes, she’s scared, but the not-me. The girl in the cairn. She looked terrified. She was scared and alone when she died.”

Monkey’s softened face slid into a frown. “Tripitaka, that thing in the cairn is not real. She was never real.”

“I know that,” Tripitaka said hastily, wiping her eyes. “But that doesn’t make it any less sad.” Pigsy gave her a small nod before his eyes glanced up at something behind her for a brief second before going back to Tripitaka’s face. She turned and her suspicions were confirmed; Sandy had come out of hiding to observe them from afar, guarded but now fractionally more open to a conversation.

“Sandy…” the god stiffened at the sound of Tripitaka speaking her name, but didn’t flee. “Do you know this is a dream?”

The muscles in Sandy’s face twitched. “You could be false. A demon trick. Trying to replace the real Tripitaka.” Her voice was hoarse and caught on Tripitaka’s name.

“No trick. Just a… misunderstanding,” Tripitaka said. “What if I can prove it’s a dream?”

The god remained where she was, wary but listening.

Glancing around, Tripitaka found a stick and Sandy allowed her to pick it up. She started scratching words in the ancient language in the mud. Sandy inched forward, eyes darting between watching the words appear on the ground and Tripitaka herself. Finally, Tripitaka set down the stick and slowly stood up.

“No demon knows how to read the ancient language, much less write it,” Tripitaka explained. “I can’t be a demon trick.” Sandy peered at her, and then back at the writing, easing closer. “Can you read this?”

Tripitaka knew that most people, humans at least, couldn’t read while they were asleep. It was one of the signs that she used herself to know she was dreaming. She fervently hoped that gods were similar in that regard.

“I can’t read it,” Monkey replied instantly.

Pigsy elbowed him. “You can’t read it even if you’re awake, you idiot.”

Tripitaka rolled her eyes. “Pigsy, that was not very nice.” Monkey shot a gloating look at Pigsy. “And Monkey? Please focus. This isn’t about you.” He instantly pouted but remained quiet. Sandy watched them all intensely, piecing together the presented evidence, before she glanced back at the cairn, presumably thinking about what lay inside.

“Sandy. I wouldn’t lie to you,” Tripitaka said, trying to pull her attention away from the dead Tripitaka. Sandy redirected her gaze to her.

“Of course not,” she said softly. “Because you are the real Tripitaka.” Tripitaka let a relieved smile cross her face and Sandy went on, “Only the real Tripitaka would feel sorrow for someone who wasn’t ever real.” She stepped closer and hesitantly enveloped Tripitaka into a hug as delicate as a butterfly’s wing, as if she was afraid to break her little friend. Tripitaka showed no such hesitation and stretched up tall to reassure the god and squeezed tight before they let each other go.

Pigsy ruffled Tripitaka’s hair and Monkey found his way into her line of sight and held it with a proud smile before glancing at Sandy.

“So… could you read the words?” he asked in genuine curiosity.

Sandy offered a tiny shrug. “No. But the real giveaway was only the real Tripitaka would be able to get you and Pigsy to instantly settle down after provoking each other.” She glanced back at the cairn again, downcast. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.”

“Forget it,” Tripitaka cut her off. “It was really convincing. The dream even threw me off; not your fault.”

“When will the baku let us out?” Sandy’s hands were twitching, probably longing for her blade that wasn’t there. Tripitaka grinned at Sandy’s deduction of the troublemaker’s identity.

“It said I’d go first. Then you guys will sleep the rest of the night off.”

“You actually spoke to a baku?” Sandy said, voice still hoarse but impressed. “Only you, Tripitaka.”

The four of them remained in their loose circle, chuckling at the happenstance of it all, relieved their ordeal would be over soon, when Tripitaka heard a thin voice whispering in her ear.

“Their shared dream is broken and soon to end. Time to leave, yes?”

Tripitaka was about to ask how when the shadow of a large nearby boulder extended impossibly up, creating a shady tear in the air where Tripitaka could barely glimpse the real world, still enshrouded in night.

Tripitaka took one more glance at the three gods. They were now lounging against the boulders, looking far more happy and content than when she first arrived in their dream. Satisfied, she was just about to step through when she heard footsteps behind her and a hand snagged her own.

“Wait.” She turned to see Monkey standing there, unsure.

“I’m leaving first, Monkey. You’ll wake up on your own,” Tripitaka reminded him.

She caught the slightest glimpse of fear cross his face.

“You’ll be there, right? When we wake up?” he blurted out.

Tripitaka squeezed his hand. “Like I said, you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere and you won’t be long behind.” His eyes were darting around, nervous. “Promise.”

His shoulders relaxed, but only a little. Then he frowned again. “Earlier. When I said I could tell all this was a dream. I didn’t really mean that.”

Tripitaka fought the urge to roll her eyes. If there was one thing about the Monkey King that was completely dependable, it was his bravado. “I figured.”

“No, I mean,” he let out a blast of air in frustration. “I wasn’t sure it was a dream. But I knew it couldn’t be real, you know?”

“Monkey. Tell me exactly what you’re trying to say.”

His mouth worked as he thought. “I knew, deep down, it couldn’t be true,” he finally said. “But at the same time I didn’t want to hope that I was right.”

Tripitaka nodded for him to continue honing in on what he actually wanted to say. He glanced down at their hands, realizing he was still holding onto hers, but didn’t let go.

“I would’ve known.” He nodded once, glancing up at her and then back down quickly. “I would’ve known if you were gone. Really gone.”

Tripitaka couldn’t help but smile at his sudden self-consciousness, and gave the back of his hand a small caress with her thumb. “I know.”

Somehow the god looked even more nervous, and his free hand trembled before he hesitantly raised it to her face. When his fingertips just barely brushed her cheek, an impatient voice snorted in her ear.

“Come, come, human! Come out of the dream!”

Tripitaka sighed and Monkey, having sensed her abrupt change in demeanor, dropped his arms to his sides as if they were made of stone.

“Uh, the baku appears to be in a hurry,” Tripitaka said, ears burning.

Monkey straightened up and ran a hand through his hair before gesturing to her with a forced politeness. “Best not keep it waiting then.”

She grinned, trying to hide her blush as the baku keened in her ear. She felt the invisible force of its impatience tugging her towards the exit. “I’ll see you in the morning, Monkey.” With that she turned and stepped through the tear.

The world spun and her guts tumbled around and around until she was sitting upright back on the grass where she’d started, the embers of the dying fire weakly glowing with the sunrise. Catching her breath, Tripitaka glanced around at the three gods, who were completely silent and still, as they should be. She noted that Monkey had curled fully into her scarf, arms wrapped tightly around it although his face was peaceful. The baku tilted its head, watching her.

“Back. Back with baku.” It let out a squeak, sounding like a giggle, waggling its tail.

Tripitaka shook her head at its antics. She paused. “Will my friends remember any of this?”

The baku sobered, thinking, before shaking its head. “No. Just you. I ate their dream to nothing. You just walk in it, yes?”

On one hand, Tripitaka was relieved the gods wouldn’t remember any of the trauma they’d created for themselves and subsequently endured, but on the other hand, there were some things that she wouldn’t mind if a certain god remembered. And, she thought uncomfortably, remembering their sorrow and staring into her doppelganger’s dull, frightened eyes, some things she’d rather forget.

“Thanks. And for your help. Thank you.”

The baku tilted its head at her, trunk curling and uncurling. Tripitaka hesitated. If there was a chance that she could prevent this from happening to anyone else, it was worth a try.

“You know, you don’t have to make bad dreams happen,” she told it.

“I eat bad dreams. I need to eat, yes. So I make bad dreams,” it argued, tail thrashing.

“Yes,” Tripitaka replied, “But there are plenty of bad dreams that people make on their own during the night.” She thought of countless people fleeing from demon raids or children wracked with sickness or loneliness. “There’s enough fear and sorrow in the world already; you don’t need to add to it.”

The baku plopped down, puzzled. “But there are no dreams here, yes? What dreams I find I must make.”

Tripitaka gently poked its forehead. “That’s because you’re in the middle of nowhere, silly. There aren’t any people here to have bad dreams. There’s loads of villages – crèches, I guess, back where we came; I’m sure you can find a good supply of bad dreams to eat without needing to make any yourself.”

The baku’s eyes widened greedily. “Yes, yes! Many dreams! Always better when I don’t make myself, yes! I can hide and eat and grow heavy!” The end of its tail jumped around in delight, and Tripitaka smiled. “Where is the crèche?”

“Follow me.”

She led the baku out of the stand of trees and back towards the boulder-filled basin, faltering a little when she laid eyes on the cairn where the dream Tripitaka had died. After pointing it in the direction of the last cluster of villages they’d passed and giving it some more directions, the baku waggled its stubby tail before happily waddling off without another word, vanishing before her eyes into the landscape.

Upon returning to the campsite and seeing everything was in order, she set about stoking the fire back to life as she waited for her friends to wake. Monkey stirred, hand twitching, before he blinked awake. Out of the corner of her eye, Tripitaka watched him sit up and realize he was clutching her scarf. He looked around in transparent confusion, eyes settling on her.

“Morning,” Tripitaka said mildly, trying to ignore him.

He made his way over to her. He was holding the scarf out like he was going to question how and why he was currently holding it, but instead took one look at her and dropped his arm, scarf forgotten.

“What happened to you?”

Tripitaka realized that she probably looked tired and scuffed up from Sandy’s unintentional attack last night and went for the most obvious deflection. “Tripped and fell.”

Monkey was unimpressed as he ran a critical eye over her, hands still awkwardly playing with the blue fabric in his hands. “I’m choosing to believe you, but did something happen last night?”

She shrugged, the movement causing her shoulder to remind her that it was not fully recovered from last night. “Nothing!” Tripitaka exclaimed, trying to mask the jolt of pain. “Nothing at all.”

Monkey abruptly reached out, scarf now draped over his arm, and turned her face to get a better look at the scrapes and no doubt forming bruise. Tripitaka tried not to flinch when his hand brushed the forming goose egg on the back of her head where it had struck the ground. She found herself hating this distant (and more painful) imitation of his gentle touch from when they were trapped in the dream, and felt ridiculous yearning for it.

She also found herself hating how good he was at reading her tells as they traveled together, and studiously avoided his concerned frown. “Tripitaka, seriously, what happened?”

She ground her teeth. The gods had already gone through so much in their lifetimes. In the one instance that they had the opportunity to forget a very frightening ordeal, how could she possibly force them to relive their pain?

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you! Nothing! Nothing happened! I just tripped and fell!” she forced out instead. Granted she’d had some help doing so, so at least part of her flimsy excuse wasn’t a complete lie.

“Because there’s something you’re not telling me,” Monkey retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Come on now. It can’t be that embarrassing.”

Tripitaka held her stubborn silence, fighting down the urge to shrug him off and walk away to escape, and Monkey sighed. By now he knew that when she dug in, she easily matched his tenacity and there was no point in trying to extract an answer from her.

He held up the scarf, defeated. “Well then there’s this, then. I’m going to assume that whatever happened last night had something to do with me getting this.” He clearly didn’t expect an answer as he looped the scarf over her head, frowning as he tried to figure out how she wrapped it as she stifled a giggle, eventually giving up. “I actually have no idea how you do this. You make it look easy.”

Tripitaka smirked and wound the scarf around her shoulders in a practiced motion, unintentionally flinching when her shoulder reminded her that it was still unhappy about being thrown about by a god not in her right mind. Monkey instantly noticed, but mercifully didn’t comment.

Across the camp Pigsy had thrown his blanket off and sat up. “Why is it so late? I thought we all agreed last night to get a move on earlier,” he groused.

Sandy was also up and listening. “Aren’t you tired, Tripitaka? You were on watch the whole night, you should’ve woke me up.” She squinted. “Why does it look like someone hit you?”

“You guys seemed tired,” Tripitaka replied, adjusting the last of the scarf and deliberately ignoring the last probing question. “Thought you needed the sleep. I’m fine. I’m not tired at all.” That part was actually true. That brief time in the dream was more than enough sleep for now. She would just need to turn in early tonight.

“I dunno. She seems kind of cranky,” Pigsy teased, his words wrapped in a smile. “Maybe we should take it easy today.”

“You would say that,” Monkey muttered as he stepped closer to her and pinned her down with a stare that was soft around its edges. Tripitaka felt an unintentional thrill of nerves at his warm proximity. “I’m trusting that you have good reason for being so cagey, little monk. So I’m going to let this go.”

“It was just a normal night, Monkey. Nothing you need to worry about,” she said. On an impulse she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, feeling ridiculous trying to reclaim the best part about walking in the gods’ dream last night. Only the briefest flash of surprise crossed his face before he returned the gesture and then leaned back, preening.

“Well, you know where I am if you need to talk,” he said with a playful toss of his hair, walking away. “You know, because we travel together.”

Tripitaka snorted, shaking her head. He’d never change. She glanced at the three gods clustered around the fire and made her decision. She was going to make it a point to never tell them of her encounter with a magical creature and then their subsequent rescue from a horrific nightmare of their own making. It was a burden she’d gladly bear for them.

Yeah. For Tripitaka, all in an entirely ordinary night’s work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!


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